Mallrats
by CrimsonObsession
Summary: A silly little tidbit written for a Contre La Montre challenge. "Shopping day is a very dangerous day." Fits into the What You Really Need/Stellar storyline. Fluffy, PWP-ish Zim/Dib! Don't like, move along, nothing to see here...


4/6/03: "I'm sorry, this skit is becoming far too silly." Short, stupid, pointless, naughty-fluffy PWP XD. Once you go bad you never go back, apparently O_o. Written for the Contre La Montre 'Imperfect Sex' challenge() Everyone, go join Contre La Montre and partake in all the slashy improv fun!!! They need more Zim writers damn it! XD...Now...Bring the pain! XD  
  
Disclaimer: Dey's belong to JHONEN!! Whoo doggies!! Oh, and, unfortunately, Nickelodeon...[grumbles and vague threats]  
  
Slash Disclaimer: SLASH!! (Too) Sweet sweet, painful and imperfect Zim/Dib love here people! You don't like, don't read!  
  
-Mallrats-  
  
"Sniveling dirt beasts!" Zim rubbed harshly at his eyes, trying to work up the liquid to rinse out the remnants of perfume sprayed into his face by overeager (and apparently blind) salesladies. Dib tried to hide his snickering.   
  
Zim growled, digging his palms into his eyes even more fervently. "As soon as my vision returns, I'm going to smack you, human."  
  
"Sorry."   
  
"And stop smirking! You dare smirk?! You DARE?" Skin reddening and eyes still shut, he thrust a finger fiercely at the spot where Dib stood, which was actually about four feet to the left of where Dib was standing. Dib sighed, rolled his eyes, and stepped into the line of Zim's (currently non-existent) vision, staring down the business end of Zim's thin, black-gloved finger.   
  
When his outburst failed to arouse the proper protest, Zim turned and stalked angrily down the aisle again. Dib marveled as he managed to avoid bumping into anything or anyone. The alien seemed to sense people's presence, and avoid them like the plague (as usual), and whenever his feet threatened to lead him off the path, the disappearance of his clicking heels into soundless carpet put him right back on a line.   
  
"Don't know why I allowed you to talk me into this foolish excursion," he grumbled. One lavender eye blinked open, slammed shut, eliciting a hiss from Zim, and strained open again.   
  
Dib continued walking, fighting to keep the smirk out of his voice as well as off his face. "Can you see?"   
  
A glare. "Unfortunately. Your giant cranium is even less appealing when it's blurred."   
  
He couldn't hide it that time. "You weren't complaining about my 'cranium' last night...or the size of my head, for that matter." He feigned innocence, and was rewarded with a pop-eyed expression on Zim's face, which made his eyes bug out enough to result in further irritation. An Irken cursing fit followed, along with even more eye-rubbing and a few pained whines.   
  
The involuntary whimpering was almost enough to make Dib regret it. Almost.  
  
"Here we are, first floor, Men's Clothing, Haberdashery, and Straight Jackets!"  
  
"You won't be needing any of those in the near future," Zim practically growled, then gave Dib a look. Dib chose to ignore it.  
  
"We've got a lot of work to do." He eyed Zim's current clothes, an old t-shirt of his and a pair of black jeans. The alien's self-inflicted growth spurt had left him with a pressing lack of clothing, and he'd been alternating between a ragged, far too small invader uniform and Dib's hand-me-downs.   
  
Zim looked over the sea of brightly colored clothing spreading out before them, with a wary, overwhelmed gaze. "Meatboy, you seem to have lost your overly large mind."   
___  
  
"Yeah, I think these are good, for starters." Shoving the last few pieces onto the eye-high pile of clothes obscuring Zim's face, Dib started steering the alien to the dressing rooms, ignoring his muffled protests. After acquiring a key from the glazed-eyed attendant, he led Zim to one of the rooms and pushed him inside.   
  
Zim dumped the pile in the corner of the small booth, threw a disturbed glance at the pink mirror and maroon paisley wallpaper, and turned back to lock the door behind him.   
  
Trouble was, Dib was between him and the door, having already beaten him to it.   
  
With an smirk that he could describe as nothing so much as naughty, Dib flipped a switch on the cotton-candy pink door paneling, turning on the 'Occupied' sign. Licking his lips in a rather un-Dib-like gesture, he advanced on Zim, who backed against the wall, nearly tripping over the clothes in the process.   
  
"Let me help you with that." Dib's voice was throaty, rumbling with a mischievous chuckle. "Can't try on the new without getting rid of the old."   
  
With an indignant squeak Zim ducked past him, fumbled with the door latch for a moment before being spun around and finding his lips trapped by Dib's. Groaning, he eagerly fell into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dib's lean form, reaching under the not-so-smiley face shirt and letting his gloved fingers roam gently over his pale skin. He tried to press closer to Dib's warmth, lost his balance and fell back against the door. Something clicked behind him, was ignored as Dib leaned into him, returning the favor with silken, nimble fingertips.   
  
Zim growled low, bit Dib's reddened lip with a pressure just this side of gentle. His hands delved lower, played at the skin of his thighs, coming closer and closer to the quite obvious bulge in Dib's jeans. When the barest fraction of an inch separated his fingers and the incredible heat of Dib's crotch he moved, hands leaping up to pinch his nipples through his shirt.   
  
Dib's moans turned to a grunt of protest, and he opened one sex-fogged eye to glare at his tormentor. Zim smirked, and with a move he learned many years ago (who said his time in the Irken army was for nothing?) he reversed their roles, spinning Dib around until the boy was backed against the door and looking up at him with clouded, hungry eyes, panting and sweating and driving him insane. Almost of their own volition his hands shot down, wrestling furiously with the zipper of the evil black jeans, he growled in frustration, prepared to simply rip the offending denim off and be done with it-  
  
Flying through the air was the last sensation he expected to feel. Someone squealed, someone else (himself?) squeaked in surprise, and a third someone cried out, voice skipping registers as they went from vertical to horizontal with less warning than they would've preferred.   
  
Zim had just enough time and sense to roll, avoiding, barely, landing on top of Dib. He hit the ground with the force of a pickup and a pained cry, waited for the throbbing to leave his shoulder, then glanced over at Dib, who was in much the same position, only reversed. They blinked at each other, once, twice, then stared quizzically up at the large, middle-aged woman standing above them, hand still on the doorknob and a furious blush on her face.  
  
Her hands fluttered nervously for a moment, waving at her face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were, uh-I didn't know there was anybody in there." She trailed off, turned around and locked eyes on the floor, then walked away hurriedly. For a moment they were hypnotized by the sway of her ample posterior, then Dib turned his attention to the door, which now displayed the 'Unoccupied' sign.   
  
"So that's what that click was."  
  
Dib lightly cuffed Zim on the side of his head.  
_________ 


End file.
